Blindsided
by horseaholic
Summary: When Spike is seriously injured during a hot call, it has life-changing repercussions for him and the team. Lou is there to guide him. Set during season 2, pre-One Wrong Move. Spike/Lou friendship. Jam relationship. All the team is here, including Rolie.
1. Chapter 1

**Blindsided**

**Chapter One**

* * *

All in all, it had been a normal Monday for Team One. Everyone arrived at 5am for workout and were in the barn by 7am to discuss the day's plans.

"Alright," said Sergeant Parker, leaning over the table, "we've got no hot calls yet. But the day is still young. And so, I'm gonna call today a patrol day."

The team grinned; it was their favorite kind of day, next to days where they responded to hot calls, made the right decisions, saved lives, and kept the peace.

Spike let out a loud whoop of excitement.

"Alright!" Wordy agreed, nodding.

"Workouts are done, now shift starts. We'll do a little Team One PR. Keep the bad guys on their toes. Let the city know we're here."

Ed, sitting next to Greg, smiled.

"Spike and Lou," said Greg, "Alpha Team. Get keys out of locked cars for folks and the like. Rescue kittens from trees..."

The team snorted with laughter at the look on the two techies' faces, but Spike and Lou grinned nonetheless.

"Sounds good to me," said Lou, smiling.

"Eddie and I will be Team Charlie on east end, roving gangs of families, runaway strollers, domestic violence, and whatnot," said Greg. "Sam and Jules, Team Bravo."

"We'll take west," Jules volunteered, before Sam could open his mouth.

"Rolie and I will patrol south side," said Wordy. "There's always drugs and stuff going on down there."

"Copy that, team Delta," said Greg. "Keep in touch on the com-links. We'll reconvene for lunch, then call it a day at five, if there are no hot calls."

"Copy," said seven other voices into his ear.

The morning went by smoothly, so the team met for lunch, then, just as it seemed they had finished eating, the hot call siren blared.

"Team One, hot call," Winnie said quickly. "Shots fired." She quickly relayed an address. "Neighbors reporting an armed fight between Simon Conway and Jack McCoy. Subject has a knife."

"What do we know about the subjects, Winnie?" Greg asked, as they sped to the location.

"Simon's wife told him last week about her being raped by Jack two months ago, while she was home alone. She told Simon that Jack threatened to kill her if she told her husband. She turned up dead today, but Simon hasn't been informed yet. Now, according to his work buddies, Simon is planning on killing Jack over everything," Winnie reported.

"On our way, Winnie," said Greg, as Ed pushed the accelerator further into the floor. "Ed, you're Sierra One, Sam, you're Sierra Two."

"Copy."

They arrived at the residence and almost immediately heard sounds of a fight, of shoes and flesh hitting flesh.

"1:48pm, Team One arrives at subject residence," Lou spoke into the microphone. As he spoke, the transcript wrote his words across the screen.

"Bravo, Delta, clear the house," said Greg, before he and Ed split up, he taking the left side of the house, Ed taking the right. Spike and Lou remained in the command truck.

Greg and Ed rounded the corner to the sight of two distressed men; one lying on the ground, bloodied, being kicked and punched by the other.

"Where is she?!" Conway yelled at McCoy.

"I don't know!" McCoy yelled.

Conway unsheathed a knife and pointed it at McCoy's face with one hand, a gun in the other hand. "Where's my wife? Where?!"

"I don't know, I swear!" yelled McCoy.

"She told me what you did to her," Conway growled, kicking McCoy swiftly in the side. "I'm gonna gut you like the pig you are!"

Conway got down on his knees and placed the knife above McCoy's midriff.

"Drop the weapons, Simon!" Greg called out. "Sergeant Greg Parker, SRU. We'll take it from here."

"1:50pm, Sergeant Parker and Officer Lane begin negotiations," said Lou, interpreting what he heard over the com-link and saw on the CCTV.

"Living room clear," said Wordy and Rolie, over the com-links.

"Bedrooms clear," said Sam.

"Kitchen clear," said Jules. "Heading to the basement."

"Do you know what he did to my wife, sir?" Conway asked Greg.

"I do. We're gonna take him into custody," said Greg.

"He deserves to _die_, sir!" Conway yelled, thrusting the knife in McCoy's direction. McCoy screamed.

"I can't let you do that, Simon!" Ed commanded, pointing his rifle at Conway. "SIMON!" he yelled sharply, in his best DI voice.

Conway visibly softened and when he next spoke, he sounded broken.

"My house. There was police tape, blood everywhere." He landed a punch hard on McCoy's nose; Charlie Team heard it crunch as it broke. Then Conway stilled. "Siobhan's dead, isn't she?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Greg said quietly.

"You raped her! You beat her to within an inch of her life and you left her for dead! You killed her!" Conway screamed, throwing the knife down between McCoy's legs. Ed still had his rifle trained on Conway, ready to take the shot if Conway showed any sign of attempting to truly harm McCoy.

"What now, Sergeant?" Conway asked, his arms falling limp at his sides. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"First, Simon, said Greg calmly, "I understand that you're hurting from what he did to your wife, to you. But we can take it from here. He's not worth you ruining your life, Simon. Put the gun down."

Conway's body shook, then after a long moment, he dropped the gun. Greg walked forward and pulled the knife out of the ground, holstered it and the gun, then began to handcuff Conway.

"2:51 p.m., subject surrendered weapons. Subject contained."

Then the team heard words they never wanted to hear.

Jules and Sam yelled, "Boss, we've got a bomb!"

With those five words, the entire situation changed, as McCoy stood up and drew a remote control out of his pocket, before Ed could step forward to handcuff him.

"Call them off!"

"I can't do that, Jack," said Ed, holding his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

Spike and Lou glanced at each other, then Spike put a hand to his ear. "Jules, talk to me."

"Basement, Spike," said Jules quickly. "Timer says seven minutes and change."

"Call them off or we all die!" McCoy yelled, brandishing the remote control device.

"Team, fall back," Greg spoke harshly into his com-link. "Spike, Lou, we have live explosives in the house. Commence immediate evacuation of nearby properties!"

With Wordy covering him, Ed took Conway to the uniformed officers, who placed him in a car. Ed, Wordy, and Rolie began evacuating nearby houses. Then Spike came forward.

"Boss, only one man downrange," said Spike. "Babycakes can't do this one, but we can. I'm going in manual."

"Jules, Sam, get out of there! Be careful, Spike," said Greg.

"Always am," said Spike, before heading into the house with McCoy, as Jules and Sam came out the back door.

Lou ran back to the command truck and watched Spike's location dot on the computer screen enter the house. Spike walked half a pace behind McCoy, well aware that this man could, at any moment, blow himself and Spike to high heaven.

"2:55 p.m., Officer Scarlatti en route to disarm bomb."

When the door closed behind them, McCoy head-butted Spike, then before Spike could regain his senses, McCoy jumped over his handcuffs and caught them around Spike's neck, just tight enough to hold him in place. Spike could feel the remote pressing against his cheek as they crept slowly down the stairs to see two blocks of C-4 wired to a timer that was counting down. Glancing outside, he saw Ed and Sam running forward into position.

Spike returned his attention to McCoy. "Give it up, man. Even with me down here, you aren't getting out of here."

Glancing up again, he saw Ed and Sam in position to take the shot.

"Sierra One, in position."

"Sierra Two, in position."

"Last chance, McCoy," said Spike. "Put the remote down."

"You aren't in a position to be giving orders," snarled McCoy.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Spike, swinging his elbow violently and striking the man hard in the gut, then throwing himself clear.

The sound of a single shot rent the air as Ed's bullet met McCoy's head and he fell to the ground in a bloodied mess.

"Spike, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Boss," Spike replied, retrieving the remote from the dead man. Then he looked at the timer. "We've got a problem."

"What?"

"The fight must have triggered the remote control. The timer's got less than five minutes on it. That's if it's set to blow at zero," said Spike.

"Boss, we checked neighboring properties within a five-house radius," said Wordy over the com-link. "Nobody's home."

"Good," said Greg. "Spike, get out of there!"

"I'm not done here, Boss!" said Spike. But as he worked and got neither solution nor explosion, and the bomb continued to count down, in the end, he decided it was best to get himself out.

"Coming out, Boss!"

Spike turned and took off running, taking the stairs two at a time. Jules met him at the top.

"Spike, where's Sam?" she asked frantically.

"I thought he was with you? I haven't seen him since before I went in..." Spike said slowly. Over his com-link, he yelled, "Sam, where the hell are you?"

"Trying to disarm the damn thing!" Sam yelled over the com-link.

Spike looked up at Jules in alarm. "He must have gone in another way," said Spike, shaking his head. "Sam, get out of there!"

"Two minutes left on this thing, Spike, I can do this!" said Sam stubbornly, working quickly but carefully.

Spike looked at Greg. "Boss, I should be in there, not him!"

"Sam, get outta there!" Greg yelled.

"I've almost got it, Boss!"

"Sam, drop your tools and get yourself out of there RIGHT NOW!" Spike screamed. "Or I'm coming in after you!"

"Sam, GO!" Jules yelled.

With what he estimated to be less than a minute to go before the timer went off, Spike ran back into the house, bolted down the stairs, and bodily hauled Sam off the bomb.

"Sam! SAM! SAM, GET OUT! GO!" Spike roared at him, pushing him ahead of him, up the stairs.

As if in slow motion, out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw the timer tick down... 0:03... 0:02... 0:01... 0:00.

Spike's breath caught as the bomb exploded. Caught in the blast concussion, Spike felt his body picked up and thrown violently into the ceiling. He then fell hard onto the stairs, rolled down them, and hit a wall. As his head smashed against the wall, his last thought was of Sam, before darkness rushed over him.

* * *

_Just to clarify, Siobhan is pronounced "shi-vahn." I believe it's Irish, if my memory is correct._

_And I know, I know, Rolie was only in the pilot episode for like, thirty seconds, until Sam replaced him, but I like him too much to exclude him. So he'll be around. ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Blindsided**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Jules, Ed, and the team stood, stunned, hearing the bomb explode seconds after Spike entered the house. All they could do was watch in horror as windows shattered, timber splintered, and assorted debris catapulted into the air.

"SAM!" Jules screamed, her blood running cold. "Sam, status!"

"SPIKE! Spike, status!" screamed Greg, feeling his throat tighten and his heart pound painfully in his chest when his calls were met with silence.

Sirens blared in the distance, signaling the arrival of emergency services; fire trucks, more police cars, ambulances.

"Officers down, officers down!" Ed yelled over the com-link. "We need medics, now! Sam and Spike are down!"

"We have to go in after them!" Jules said frantically.

"We can't," Greg protested. "What if there's another bomb?"

"We can't just leave them in there!" Jules yelled. "I'm going in!"

Jules wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. She went around the side of the house, carefully made her way over the destroyed back patio, and broke her way through the damaged patio door. She was immediately overcome with acrid smoke and she tied a handkerchief around her face and got down on her knees, so she could breathe more easily the lesser-tainted air nearer to the floor.

"Sam! Spike!" Jules yelled, between coughs. Slowly, she crawled until she felt the door to the basement. It was ajar. She began to descend down the stairs. Halfway down, she tripped and almost fell head-over-heels over a mass. She felt around and, finding a head of slightly longer hair, she realized it was Sam.

"Sam! Sam, talk to me," said Jules, coughing. "Sam, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

A moment later, Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Jules..." He coughed heavily.

"Boss, Sam's alright," Jules spoke into her com-link, descending a few more steps so she could better assess his condition right-side-up.

"I think my arm is broken," said Sam, favoring his left arm.

Jules moved to his right side and pulled his arm over her neck and shoulders. Then she began the painstakingly slow process of hauling him up the remaining stairs to the main floor.

"Come on," Jules said. "We'll get you to the ambulance."

As they walked out of the front of the house, Jules called to the EMTs standing nearby. They hurried forward and assisted Sam in walking the rest of the way to the ambulance and helped him sit on the rear. Sam staggered as a spell of dizziness overcame him.

"Sam Braddock, you do not do that to me again!" Jules choked out through her tears. Sam nodded vaguely. "Sam, where's Spike? He didn't make it back out."

"What?" Sam's head jerked up, a motion he immediately regretted, as his head was still spinning. "He's still in there?!"

"I'm going back in," Jules said determinedly, and she turned and ran back inside the house.

_Oh, God,_ Sam thought, _what have I done?_

The last thing Sam saw before the ambulance doors closed was Ed rushing into the house behind Jules and carrying Spike, unconscious, outside, Ed screaming for a medic.

* * *

Greg paced impatiently in the waiting room, as he and the rest of the team waited for news on Sam and Spike. Spike's parents had also arrived and were filling out paperwork on his medical history.

After almost an hour, two doctors finally came out to brief them on their officers. A general physician relayed Sam's condition— a concussion, a fractured radius, a broken rib, some bruises, and smoke inhalation.

"He'll most likely sleep until morning," said the doctor, "but we expect he'll make a full recovery."

The team sighed, then a neurosurgeon came out to discuss Spike's injuries.

"I'm Doctor Rizelli, Chief Neurosurgeon in charge of Spike's case. Spike suffered a fracture of the occipital bone at the base of his skull and a serious concussion. He also sustained some smoke inhalation after the explosion. We have him on precautionary oxygen. He hasn't yet regained consciousness and that is cause for considerable concern."

Greg closed his eyes as the news sank in. Then, hearing coughing, he turned his attention to Jules, who looked particularly disheveled, her eyes red from smoke.

"Jules, you alright?"

"I'm fine, Boss," Jules replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Just a bit of residual smoke. I want to see Sam."

Greg nodded and Jules went with a nurse down the hall to Sam's room.

Spike's condition, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

"Spike has taken a severe blow to the head. His pupils are dilated and very sluggish and his CT scans indicate swelling at the front of his brain. We're concerned about the severity of his concussion, but until he wakes, we'll just have to wait and see. We don't know when he'll regain consciousness. He's currently not responding to stimuli, such as pain and light. But until he does wake, we've been monitoring his vitals and brain activity closely and we're confident that he will wake up soon. He's going to have one hell of a headache."

"Can we see him, Doctor?" Lou asked.

"I'm sorry, but no. I'd like to keep him as quiet as possible for now. However, one of you may stay with him tonight. But the rest of you are welcome to come back tomorrow."

No one doubted who would be staying with Spike that first night; so, after bidding everyone goodnight, Lou followed the doctor into Spike's room. His eyes widened in alarm at all the machines surrounding his friend.

"Don't let all the hardware scare you," said the doctor kindly. "His oxygen intake has already been reduced from the mask to the nasal cannula, and if his breathing continues to improve, he'll lose that one tomorrow. The others are monitoring his brain activity, levels of consciousness, and other vitals. The I.V. is providing him with fluids until he wakes and can be provided fluids orally."

Lou nodded warily.

"I'll have a nurse bring you a cot bed shortly," said Doctor Rizelli.

Lou nodded and sank down heavily into the visitor's chair.

* * *

Time passed slowly, as Lou became hypnotized between Spike's steady breaths and the ticking of the clock. Every so often, he got up from the chair and walked around to stretch his legs and the tight muscles in his back. After some time, noticing movement beneath the covers, he went over and sat on the edge of Spike's bed, careful of all the wires.

"Lou?" Spike whispered, frown and pain lines appearing instantly as a mammoth headache made its presence known.

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," said Lou quietly. Lou noticed Spike's blood pressure rising and his breathing increasing, as his pain increased, so he quickly pressed the nurse call button. "Nurse is on her way, buddy, hold on."

Spike's long fingers clenched the covers as his breathing and heart rate sped up. He opened his eyes a crack, then squeezed them shut again in pain.

"Lou... time?" Spike whispered.

"Almost ten p.m.," said Lou quietly.

Spike blinked rapidly and looked around the room, barely turning his head. Sensing his friend's rising panic and disorientation, Lou pressed the call button again and placed a comforting hand over Spike's white knuckles.

"Hey, talk to me," said Lou softly. "What's going on?"

"Lou... I'm blind."

* * *

_Doctor Rizelli's name is of my own creation, from smashing a friend's two names together. She wanted a nurse or doctor role, so I gave her one. :D Onward..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Blindsided**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The team stood in silence as the doctor's news washed over them.

"As you know, Spike took a considerable blow to the head. The impact was hard enough to cause a fracture to his occipital bone at the back of his skull and considerable swelling to the occipital cortex," explained the ophthalmologist, the third different doctor they had seen in as many hours. "Based on the tests I have conducted on Spike, I believe his eyes are functioning perfectly; it's his brain that currently is struggling. The occipital cortex is situated at the rear of the brain, which allows us to see the things we do; color, movement, distance, depth, shapes. His has suffered trauma, resulting in complete loss of sight."

"Is it permanent?" Ed asked.

"We don't know at this point. We've arranged for our leading neurologist to see him later this morning for testing. We should know something more definitive after then."

"Does Spike know?" Greg asked.

"Yes, he does. When he initially woke, he was panicked, but after we spoke with him, he calmed down. His parents came to see him earlier, then we sedated him so he could get some sleep before tests."

"Can we see him?" asked Greg.

"Certainly; perhaps not all of you at once, but just a few of you for now, then the rest of you in a while," said Doctor Rizelli, from beside the ophthalmologist, before stepping aside to let the team in.

As he assumed a seat in a nearby chair next to Ed, Greg tried to comprehend what life without sight for Spike would be like. Forever changed. Everything in his life depended on his sight. His job as a bomb tech, his ability to negotiate, his love of food and cooking, tuning up Babycakes...

"He'll be devastated if he doesn't regain his sight," said Greg quietly to the room.

"He's strong, Greg," said Ed. "He wouldn't want our pity. He'll work it out, one way or another."

* * *

Meanwhile, Jules was on her way down the hall to see Sam, when she spotted him shuffling in her direction, dressed in a thin hospital gown and slippers, his left arm in a cast, strapped to his body. A petite brunette nurse accompanied him.

"Sam, how are you feeling?" Jules asked, sighing with relief at seeing him. With a gentle "I got him" from Jules, the nurse continued on her way.

"They're releasing me," said Sam, as he accepted a gentle hug from her. He looked over Jules' shoulder. "Jules, is that Spike's room? I wanna see him."

Sam tried to sidestep around Jules, but she steered him around the other way.

"He's still sleeping, Sam," Jules said evasively. "Now's not a good time. Let's go back to your room and talk, okay?"

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but he nodded and she accompanied him back to his room. He lay back down on his bed and turned and looked at her.

"What aren't you telling me, Jules?"

"Sam..." Jules said softly. "Spike is blind."

"He's _blind_? Like, actually—?" Sam gawked.

"Completely," Jules said, nodding. "The doctors think it's from his brain swelling. He's sleeping right now and they're going to do tests later to determine the extent of the damage. Lou and the Sarge are with him. Ed, too."

"Oh, good," Sam sighed, relieved.

"And I brought you clean clothes from your locker," said Jules, smiling.

"Thanks, Jules," Sam said, looking down fondly at her. Then he paused. "Wait, how did you...?"

"I cracked your combo," Jules said, grinning. "It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"What was it?" Sam tested her, cocking an eyebrow.

"Simple. Seven, eleven, eight. The day we met," Jules said, smiling.

Sam smiled.

"Are you okay to change by yourself?" Sam nodded. "Alright, I'll get your discharge papers."

As Sam began to change clothes, Jules walked across the hall to the nurses' station and retrieved his discharge paperwork. It had only been a few hours, but it had felt like years had passed. The team had a long road ahead of them.

* * *

Lou watched helplessly as Spike fought to regain consciousness. Frown and pain lines immediately appeared as the fog of the sedative wore off and the effects of the concussion presented. He let out a short groan before vomiting, as waves of nausea and pain washed over him. After several long minutes, he stopped, shaking from exhaustion and pain. Only then did Spike attempt to open his eyes.

His eyelashes fluttered and he blinked several times before raising his hand in front of his face. He waggled his fingers and let out a humorless huff.

"I had hoped... this was just a dream... that I would wake up and I could see again," he said to Lou. "What time is it?"

"Seven a.m.," Lou replied. "The doctors wanted to let you sleep some more before they brought you down for more tests."

"More tests?" Spike asked. "What more could they possibly need to do to determine that I'm blind and my head is killing me?"

"I don't know, man, I'm not a doc," said Lou calmly, understanding his friend's frustration. "But the more tests they run, they more results they get, the more they can rule out, and the sooner you get to going home, right?"

Spike sighed. "Right," he conceded.

* * *

The next several hours passed in a myriad of vision and brain tests. Lou, ever vigilant, was waiting for him when he returned with a nurse.

"How ya feeling, buddy?" Lou asked Spike.

"Thirsty," Spike said quietly.

"I'll get you some water," said Lou. He walked over to the bathroom and filled a Styrofoam cup with water from the sink. As he walked back over to the bed, the nurse finished settling him in, then left the room.

Spike jumped when the door closed with a loud click.

"Lou?"

"Easy, Spike," said Lou. "That's just the nurse leaving. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks, buddy," Spike said quietly, sighing with relief.

"Here, drink this," Lou said, setting the cup down on the wheeled tray and inserting a straw into the cup.

Spike reached his hand out too quickly and knocked over the cup, sending it to the floor in a deluge of water.

"Dammit!" Spike yelled.

"It's okay, Spike," said Lou. He grabbed a washcloth and quickly mopped up the water. "Sorry, man, I should have set it in your hand." Lou picked up the cup and went back into the bathroom to refill it, then he curled Spike's fingers around it. "Here, go ahead and drink."

"No."

"Spike..."

"_I don't want the damn drink!_" Spike yelled.

Lou paused, as the realization of the whole situation suddenly hit him. In a matter of hours, Spike hadn't only lost his sight, but also his independence. The most basic of actions thus far required assistance from another, causing Spike not only frustration, but also embarrassment. His entire life was already changed, and the diagnosis wasn't even yet permanent.

"I'm tired, Lou," Spike said, sinking down onto his pillows and rolling over to face away from his partner.

"Do you need anything else?" Lou asked.

"No, I'm good," said Spike stubbornly.

Lou took the cup and set it on the tray, then wheeled the tray out of the way. Minutes later, exhaustion had pulled Spike back into sleep.

* * *

Jules waited patiently beside the passenger door, as Sam got into her car. She drove him home, then walked up the front steps and they entered his apartment. Sam made a beeline for his couch.

"Don't pass out yet," said Jules. "You should eat something before you take your painkillers."

Sam nodded and began to get up from the couch.

"Don't get up, I'll do it," said Jules. "How does scrambled egg sandwiches sound?"

"Heavenly."

Jules smiled. She quickly made the sandwiches, using eggs, milk, butter, salt, pepper, and cheese and dished one out to Sam and one for herself. She had cut Sam's in half to make it easier to eat with one hand and given him a fork for the leftover bits. They ate in companionable silence, then Jules noticed the distant look on Sam's face.

"Sam, you okay?"

Sam looked up. "Oh, um... Yeah," he said evasively, not completely meeting her gaze.

"Sam," Jules said evenly, "you know I know you better than that."

Sam nodded and sighed. "I'm just thinking about everything that's happened."

Suddenly, Jules' demeanor changed from soft and gentle to frustration.

"Why did you go back in, Sam?" Jules asked accusingly, her temper flaring. "Spike is the bomb tech and he had the sense to walk away. Why did you think you could do better? What is the matter with you?" Jules turned away from him in frustration and anger.

"Okay, it's one thing for me to blame myself, but you, Jules?" Sam snapped, bristling instantly. "It's not like I planted the bomb, after raping and killing the guy's wife!"

"Yes, I blame you! Part of the job is knowing when to take a step back. You could have gotten yourself and Spike killed!" Jules sighed and put her arms around him. She whispered, "I could have lost you today. You scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry." Sam leaned in and kissed her apologetically. "Can you forgive me for being such an idiot and never let me be that stupid again?"

"Of course I can," said Jules, looking straight into his eyes. "Because I love you and you're my idiot."

Sam grinned. "I always have been, Jules, from the moment I set eyes on you one year ago. You just didn't know it then."

"Oh, I knew it alright," Jules said confidently. "Just had to wait til you lost that cocky swagger, but I knew when you kissed me outside the Fairmount that you were the only man I could ever love."

Sam responded with a wide, lopsided grin.

* * *

A little while later, Spike awoke to an ever-constant debilitating headache. His hands clenched the sheets and he rolled around, trying and failing to find a comfortable position.

"Take it easy, buddy, nurse is coming," said Lou calmly, pressing the button to get his partner some more pain medication. "You need anything else?"

Lou saw blush creeping up in his best friend's cheeks, but said nothing.

"I... I need to..." Spike pointed in the direction of the bathroom, too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

"Okay, come on, sit up," Lou instructed gently, going and standing beside Spike. He set a hand on Spike's shoulder as the young man sat up dizzily and swung his legs out of bed into a sitting position. "Alright, here we go, you ready?" Spike nodded. Lou helped Spike stand, as his legs were shaking from the pain medication. "Put your hand on my arm and we'll walk."

Spike placed his hand around Lou's tricep and Lou slowly led him to the bathroom.

"Toilet's one foot to your eleven o'clock, sink's right in front of you, shower's one foot away at your three o'clock."

Spike nodded. Lou hovered just long enough to be assured Spike wasn't going to fall, then closed the door gently to let Spike do his business in private. After a few minutes, the door opened.

"Lou?"

"I'm here, Spike," Lou said, stepping into place beside Spike. Spike immediately placed his hand firmly on Lou's tricep, then they walked back over to the bed.

"What time is it?" Spike asked.

One thing Spike had noticed was, with his new handicap and the copious amount of time he spent in a painkiller-induced slumber, it was very difficult to keep track of time.

"Just about ten a.m. They should be here shortly to take you for more scans," said Lou.

As Spike was getting back into bed, Doctor Rizelli and a nurse arrived to take him to the imaging department for more tests.

"Are you ready for this, Spike?" asked the doctor.

"As I'll ever be," said Spike, as he stood and, with the nurse and Lou's help, slowly got into the wheelchair.

* * *

Almost two hours later, the array of CT scans were completed. Ed waited impatiently with Greg in the waiting room of the imaging department for the medical staff to bring Spike out.

Finally, Doctor Rizelli and a nurse appeared at the door, swiped their cards into the security locks, and walked briskly up to Ed. In the brief seconds the door was open, Ed heard Spike yelling in pain from within the department.

"What's going on?" Ed demanded.

"Officer Lane, Sergeant Parker, we're sorry for the delay. There was a problem. Shortly after injection, Spike developed an allergic reaction, which caused extreme itchiness to his skin. He also experienced feelings of warmth, due to the contrast fluid. He became very nauseated and dizzy when we began to move the table around for the scan. We had to sedate him so he would stop scratching, in order to finish the scan. He'll be in the department for fifteen more minutes for observation, then sent back to his room to sleep off the remainder of the sedative."

"When will we get the results?" Ed asked.

"We may have them within the hour, we may have them this afternoon, it's not a sure thing," said Doctor Rizelli. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to him. You can meet him at his room shortly."

Ed and Greg nodded, then went together to Spike's room to wait for him to return.

Fifteen minutes later, two nurses wheeled Spike back into his room. Spike was in a daze, halfway between sedated sleep and consciousness. The nurses gently coaxed Spike into his bed, where he fell into a hot, discomforted doze.

* * *

An hour later, Spike's sightless eyes flew open and he sat partially upright, fighting the pain and dizziness.

"Lou?" he called, turning his head automatically.

"It's Ed and Greg, Spike," Ed said calmly. "We sent Lou home to shower and sleep."

"Oh," Spike said, and he lay back against his pillows. Slowly, he kicked off his covers, trying to cool off.

"Do you want me to get you some cooling blankets, buddy?" Greg asked, seeing how hot and bothered Spike was.

Spike nodded and the Sergeant stepped out to the hallway to complete Spike's request.

Spike turned his head toward the sound of Ed's voice. "Ed... Sam?"

"Sam's busted up, Spike, but he'll make it," Ed said, not unkindly. His gaze traveled to Spike's arms, where long, angry, red grazes told of the allergic reaction during the scan.

"Oh," Spike said again, sinking back against his pillows in exhaustion. "Tha's good..."

Ed nodded, then, realizing Spike couldn't see his head bob, said, "You just rest. Greg and the nurse have a cooling blanket for you. We'll ask about the scan results when you wake up."

"Thanks," Spike murmured.

His head dropped and, even before the nurses finished situating the cooling blanket around him, he was asleep.

* * *

Two hours of restless sleep later, Spike awoke. After hearing of his friend's struggle in the imaging department, Lou returned to Spike's side as quickly as he could and refused to leave to go home and get more sleep.

Lou could tell when Spike returned to consciousness, seeing the frown and pain lines appear on his friend's face within the minute. Lou pressed the nurse call button and, a few minutes later, Doctor Rizelli and two nurses knocked gently on the door and entered the room.

"Spike, it's Doctor Rizelli," said the doctor, so Spike knew he was present. "We're gonna get you some pain meds, then talk about the results of the scan, okay?"

The doctor stepped forward and placed the pills into Spike's open hand. A nurse brought Spike his cup and straw and placed it in his hands. The straw was almost to Spike's lips, when he balked.

"I don't want to sleep, Doc," said Spike stubbornly. "I can sleep when I'm dead." Spike couldn't see the swiveling of heads in his direction, but he could tell by the silence that it was a terrible slip-of-the-tongue. "Sorry."

"Take the pill, Spike. It will take ten to fifteen minutes to take effect," said Doctor Rizelli. "I'd like to tell you the results of the scan before you go back to sleep again."

Spike nodded, then, regretting the action, said, "Alright."

"As indicated by the scans, we believe you to be suffering from what's called Neurological Visual Impairment, also known as cortical blindness. What this basically means is, while we believe your eyes to be functioning perfectly, your brain is struggling to understand and interpret the message your eyes are sending it. The occipital cortex is located at the back of the brain and swelling from your brain injury is placing a dangerous amount of pressure on this center, causing the nerve constriction and the resulting blindness and pain."

"Is it permanent?" Spike asked, every muscle tensing with fear of what he might hear.

"We still don't know at this point. It depends for how long the nerves are constricted. If they have been crushed, your sight will never be regained. However, as the swelling goes down and the pressure on your nerves is relieved, you may regain partial, if not all, of your sight."

"So this could be temporary?" Spike asked.

"It may be, we'll just have to keep monitoring it," said the doctor.

"Treatment?" Ed asked.

"We're going to keep you here for a few more days, primarily for observation. In that time, we'll provide you strong anti-inflammatory and anti-nausea drugs, monitor the swelling, and will control your pain. The swelling is the reason for your debilitating headaches thus far."

"What about surgery?" Ed asked.

The doctor shook his head sympathetically. "No, I'm sorry; it's simply not an option. The swelling is too great. Not only would we be risking infection from reentering and reopening everything, but if the swelling increases anymore, which it undoubtedly would with surgery, the damage may be too great to be reversed."

Ed nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I need to attend to my other patients. I will be back in to check on you when you wake up, Spike. Please don't be afraid to call if you need pain medication."

"Thanks, Doc," Spike murmured, before sinking down onto his pillows and letting sleep overtake him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Blindsided**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

A few hours later, Spike was still sleeping. There was a gentle knock on the door and Doctor Rizelli poked his head into the room.

"Sergeant Parker, Officer Lane, Constable Young, may I speak with you for a moment?"

The three men nodded and exited the room.

"I wanted to inform you before Spike wakes of what I'm going to next tell him," said Doctor Rizelli. "I already spoke to his parents earlier. I'd like to talk to him about the possibility of entering an Independence Facility for the Blind. There's one right here in Toronto. They will teach him to adapt to his disability in all kinds of ways."

"Is that necessary?" Lou asked. "I thought you said this could be temporary?"

"I also said it could be permanent," countered Doctor Rizelli. "Regardless of how long the disability lasts, the sooner Spike begins to adapt to his disability, the sooner he can return to regaining his independence and leading a relatively normal life. When a sighted adult goes blind, the most basic independent skills become difficult or impossible for them. Without rehabilitation training, they require constant assistance with almost everything."

"And this center will help him with all that?" Greg asked.

"All that and more. They will teach him how to use technology, how to read Braille, home living skills, such as laundry and cooking, how to tell time, socialization, transportation safety, personal care, employment skills and training. It's the best of its kind in the country and I believe I can get Spike booked in relatively quickly. He'll also have access to top counseling and a 24/7 access to a crisis line."

"Can we begin by just driving him there every day?" Lou asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. The move would be as soon as possible and permanent. Residents attend classes from 8am to 3pm in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, and they live in a dorm 24/7 during their stay," said Doctor Rizelli.

"So just like that, he's no longer a grown man, capable of making his own decisions? He's suddenly just a child who is forced to do things against his will?" Ed snapped.

"Eddie..."

Ed looked at Greg seriously. "He'll never go for it, Greg."

Greg nodded. "It will take some convincing, but we have to start thinking about his real needs, not what he thinks he needs or what we think he needs."

"It may take a few weeks for a vacancy to open, or a vacancy may open right away," said Doctor Rizelli. "Regardless, I can easily arrange for the center counselor to come visit Spike and for you three to visit the center before the decision is made."

Greg nodded. "That may be the best way to approach this. What did his parents say?"

"Mrs. Scarlatti wouldn't go for it," said Doctor Rizelli. "She seemed to be under the impression she could, erm, care for him fully... at home."

Lou couldn't help the grin that cracked on his face. "That's Mrs. 'Mama Bear' Scarlatti for ya, Doc."

"And his father?" Ed asked, unamused.

"Mr. Scarlatti, while not enthused by the option, believed the center to be in Spike's best interest right now."

Doctor Rizelli looked down as his pager beeped. Turning it off, he said, "I'm sorry, I'm needed elsewhere. Please consider this and have me paged if Spike has any questions or needs pain medication."

The three men nodded, then reentered the room.

* * *

"No way, Boss!"

Spike's sightless eyes flashed, as the news hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I don't want it! I don't _need_ it!"

"Spike," Greg said gently, "it's for your own good."

"I know what's for my own good, Boss, and it is _not that_!" Spike argued.

Ed frowned, then sat level with the young man.

"So, tell me Spike, since you seem to have it all figured out; when they release you from the hospital in a few days, where will you go?" Ed asked.

"I know my parents' house like the back of my own hand!" Spike yelled, trying to rub the throbbing pain from his temples. "I can pay my bills and have my folks buy my groceries and have them delivered. My mom cooks."

"Spike, how are you gonna read your bills, so you can pay them online? How are you gonna use a computer? How will you tell whether you are wearing matching socks?" Greg asked. How will you read the labels on your medications? How are you going to sort your laundry, before and after washing and drying? What about ironing? Do you intend to live with your parents for the rest of their days? What if they cannot be at your every beckon and call?"

"I can help him, Boss," Lou interjected.

Ed shot Lou a glare. "Shut up, Lou."

"Alright, enough! Stop! Just... _stop_!" Spike yelled. He took some deep breaths, the pain in his head increasing with his stress. "I can do this. Doctor Rizelli said this might only last a couple days or weeks. I can do this, okay? I can make it work."

"Spike, this center will do everything in its power to help you learn to live an independent, happy life," said Greg.

"I have an independent, happy life, Boss!"

"Had, you _had _an independent, happy life, Spike," Ed corrected. "You know as well as I do that your sight may never return."

"It will, Ed, I just know it will! It has to!"

Greg looked at the monitors and, noticing Spike's pulse had risen, held out an arm in front of Ed's chest.

"Eddie, he's had enough."

Ed's steely gaze firmly met Greg's softened one, then Ed nodded.

"Lou?" Spike asked, searching for his friend's voice.

"I'm here, Spike," Lou said gently. He placed a Styrofoam cup and two pills in Spike's hand. "Here, doc said you need to take these."

"I don't want to sleep," Spike said stubbornly, though it was a downright lie. Sleep was where he escaped some of the pain, some of the harsh reality slapping him in the face. Harsh reality he wasn't ready to face.

"Spike... don't act like I just betrayed you, man," Lou said quietly.

"No, betrayal implies an action," Spike snapped, gulping down the pills and washing them down with a large swallow of water. "You just stood there!"

Lou let the harsh words sink in for a moment, then he grasped Spike's wrist with his long fingers. Though he expected the young man to reject the touch, Spike did not flinch away.

"Spike," Lou said, "I'm your best friend. Never forget that, no matter what you might think, I want what's best for you. Whatever you decide, our friendship will never change."

Spike slumped back against his pillows and closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him away.

"I'll see you in the morning, buddy," Lou said quietly, before resuming his vigil in the visitor's chair.

* * *

Spike was pulled from sleep the next morning by soft, gentle fingers traveling up and down his arm. He jumped when he realized it wasn't Lou.

"Sorry, Spike, did I wake you?"

"Jules," Spike said, recognizing her voice. "It's okay. What are you doing here?"

"Sam's taking a nap at home, so I sent Lou and your folks home to get some sleep," said Jules. "They didn't want to leave, but I made them." Spike said nothing, so Jules went on. "Here, I brought you something to pass the time," said Jules. She placed his IPod into his hands. "It's fully charged up and ready to go. If you need it charged later, just ask me or someone to plug it into the wall for you."

Spike nodded again.

"Can I get you anything?" Jules asked. "Some water? A snack?"

"I'm fine, Jules. They tell you about the blind center?"

"The Sarge told me."

"Do you think I should go?" Spike asked.

"That's not my call," Jules said, "but yes, I think you should try it."

"It's not exactly a 'try' thing, Jules," said Spike. "A stay there is anywhere from six to eight months."

"That depends on if your sight comes back or not," said Jules.

Spike's sightless eyes brightened. "You think it will?"

"Spike, you know I'm not one to give anyone false hope," said Jules, "but God, I hope so. If not, I think you know the center is the best option you have at your disposal right now."

Spike nodded. "It has to come back, Jules," he said pleadingly. "I can't live like this. I won't!"

"Spike, calm down," Jules said, seeing his pulse reading rise on the monitors. "It's okay."

Spike took a few deep breaths and his pulse returned to normal.

"Thanks for bringing this, Jules."

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" Jules asked, touching his stubbly cheek fondly. "I'm here if you need me. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"You should go home, Jules, take care of Sam," said Spike.

"Sam's fine, Spike," said Jules. "It's you who needs us right now."

Spike's mouth thinned slightly, as her words sank in. Whether he wanted to agree with her or not, he knew she was right.

* * *

"Why haven't you been to see Spike?"

Sam looked over his cup of coffee at Jules in surprise. Until then, they had been sitting in the kitchen in companionable silence, enjoying their cups of coffee. The question caught him off-guard.

Sam didn't answer her right away. Jules' eyebrows rose expectantly. "Well?"

"I figured he needed some time, Jules."

"He also needs people around him who love him and support him, Sam," said Jules.

"Don't start with the blame game again, Jules," Sam said warningly.

"I'm not _blaming _you for not having seen him, Sam," Jules said firmly. "I just wondered why you hadn't been to see him, that's all."

Sam was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he said, "I guess, because Spike's always so 'up,' you know? Nothing ever dampens his spirits, really. This time is different. I don't know if I can bear to see him like this."

"Sam, he needs you. Even if he doesn't want to admit it," said Jules. "He needs all of us."

"I'll try, Jules, okay?" Sam said. "Assuming I survive the Commander ripping me apart tomorrow, I'll try."

Jules nodded, satisfied but disappointed.

* * *

"Constable Braddock, thanks for coming in," said Commander Holleran, meeting Sam's gaze from his desk. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

"I'd kinda prefer to stand, Commander," Sam said uneasily.

"Oh no, you don't. Sit," said the commander firmly, refusing to give Sam the psychological advantage. As Sam took a seat, the commander opened one of two files sitting on his desk, one thicker than the other. "Your medical report says your arm and ribs are healing well."

"Yes, thanks," Sam said.

"The doctors recommend another week's medical leave before you return to light duties."

"Yep," said Sam.

"Approved," said the commander. He stamped the document, then closed the file. Laying it aside, he pulled the second file toward him. Opening it, he said, "Tell me what happened after you and Officer Lane took the shots that brought down Jack McCoy."

"It's all there in the incident report I filed," said Sam evasively.

Commander Holleran's brows furrowed. "Enlighten me."

"Spike... Officer Scarlatti... continued working on disarming the bomb."

"The report states he abandoned his work at some point."

"Yes, he did."

"You went in after he abandoned it as futile?"

"I thought I could help."

"What brought you to that conclusion?"

Sam flinched inwardly at the condescending tone. "I have experience with disarming bombs in Afghanistan, sir."

"That is very different experience."

"Sir?"

"In this case, there were no residents at home in the neighboring houses. It wasn't a dirty bomb. It wasn't in an open plaza, endangering other innocent civilians. There was absolutely no reason for you to go back in, endangering yourself and Officer Scarlatti," said the commander. "How was this any different?"

"It wasn't."

"As you are fully aware, Constable Braddock, the chain of command is in place for a reason. These transcripts clearly state that you not only disobeyed one direct order to abort, but three, those being Sergeant Greg Parker, Officer Scarlatti, and Constable Callaghan. They told you to abort and you responded, and I quote, 'Spike, I can do this,' 'I've almost got it, Boss.' What made you think, if Officer Scarlatti, a bombs tech expert, hadn't 'got it,' that you could do better?"

Sam shook his head wordlessly.

"And as a result of your insubordination, one of my team may have permanently lost his sight, and by extension, his career," said the commander. "I'm placing a formal reprimand in your file, and effectively immediately, you can consider yourself on suspension. Your suspension will run concurrent with your medical leave. Whether or not you will be terminated will be up to Sergeant Parker and Officer Lane."

Sam nodded. The commander rose to his feet. "I need your firearms and your badge."

Sam stood swiftly and withdrew his sidearm and his back-up weapon and placed them and his badge on the commander's desk.

"Dismissed," said Commander Holleran, and he watched Sam turn and leave his office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Blindsided**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Just as he had experienced with the first scans, the contrast fluid used during the procedure exacerbated Spike's nausea and dizziness and brought the itchiness and overwhelming warmth back to his skin. It took much of Spike's willpower not to scratch. Still, as he writhed around in agony, clenching the sheets to prevent himself from scratching, his blood pressure rose from the effort he expounded. He was exhausted and craved sleep.

As the nurse wheeled him, half-asleep, back into his room, following the procedure, Spike vaguely heard the sound of his mother's voice, before the nurse settled him into his bed and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, Spike awoke again to darkness. Cursing his lack of vision, he called out softly, "Lou?"

Spike sighed when his voice was met with silence. He was alone. Lying back on his pillows, he let the sounds and smells of the hospital overtake him. The sharp smell of disinfectant, the soft clicking of nurses' shoes against the tile floor, the beeping of a call button from another patient's room, phones ringing, a secretary's voice... It all began to run together as Spike drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

That afternoon, Spike awoke to whispering voices. Without opening his eyes, he feigned sleep for a minute longer, trying to sort them out. He recognized Lou's laid-back croon, Jules' soft purr, the Sarge's comforting murmur, and Ed's slightly higher gruff.

"Hey, guys," Spike said, letting them know he was awake. He could tell by the way they stopped talking that he had their attention. They all greeted him, then the bed sank slightly at Spike's feet as Ed sat down.

"Hey, Spike, how ya doing, buddy?" Ed asked him, placing a hand on Spike's leg.

"Headachy."

"Bad one?" Ed asked.

"Yeah," Spike admitted truthfully.

"I'll get you a pain pill," said Ed. He stepped across the hall to the nurse's station and came back into the room with the pill. He wheeled the tray into position, then placed the plastic cup in Spike's hands. As he set a pitcher of water onto the tray, he said, "Spike, I want you to try something." Spike's eyebrows rose, indicating he was listening. "Why don't you try to pour yourself a glass of water?"

Spike's expression fell slightly. "Ed?"

But Ed persisted. "Pain pill's three inches to your twelve o'clock." He curled Spike's long fingers around the handle of the water pitcher and placed the cup in his other hand. "Just tilt the pitcher some and tilt it back when you feel the water touch your fingertip." Spike hesitated. "You can do this, Spike, trust me."

Spike, though embarrassed of his audience, wanted to believe Ed. Very carefully, he raised the pitcher a couple inches off the tray, tilted it, and began to pour the water. He waited until he just felt the water touch his fingertip, then stopped pouring and set the pitcher back down.

"Way to go, buddy, you did it," said Ed, grinning. "See, this is just one of the things the reorientation center can teach you."

Spike's expression immediately clouded over at the mention of the center.

"Ed, I'm still not going to the center," said Spike. "Doctor Rizelli said this could be just a temporary thing. What's the point of going if my sight comes back tomorrow?"

"But what if it doesn't, Spike?" said Ed. "You need to stop pretending like this is just some game that you can quit playing when you feel like it."

"I know you think I should, Ed, but I just can't. Not when my sight could return soon!" said Spike stubbornly. "I just need a few... skills to help me get by until it comes back. And anyway, Doctor Rizelli was supposed to be by last night with the test results and he wasn't! I'm telling you, something came up— an emergency or he forgot or something— because he was not here!"

"The doctor is here," Doctor Rizelli said, announcing his presence. "I was going to bring the results by last night, Spike, but you were quite asleep. I thought it wise to leave you be."

Spike nodded. "And?"

"Unfortunately, what news I have isn't brilliant," said Doctor Rizelli. "While the swelling isn't getting any worse, we usually see some sort of improvement by now."

Spike nodded. His sightless eyes widened as his heart sank at the distressing news.

"How are the headaches?" asked the doctor.

"Not as frequent," said Spike.

"But still pretty nasty?"

"Yeah," Spike said evenly. "I just want to go home, Doc. All I do here is eat, sleep, and take pills. I can do that at home!"

"Why do I get the feeling, if I were to take your blood pressure right now, I'd be tearing up these discharge papers I have in my hand?" asked Doctor Rizelli.

Spike's head shot up. "I can go home?"

"Maybe," said Doctor Rizelli. "Despite the heavy anti-inflammatory drugs we currently have you on we aren't seeing any discernible improvement in the swelling around your occipital cortex."

Spike nodded.

"Okay, but you said with this type of injury, it varies, like it could take a few more days, maybe?" Spike asked.

"Possibly, Spike, but we can usually see some degree of reduction in the swelling by now, if your sight has any chance of returning at all," said Doctor Rizelli. "If I discharge you, do you have someone who can stay with you?"

"I will," said Lou.

"We all will," said Greg. "We can rotate shifts."

"With all due respect, Sergeant Parker, I believe you are going to need to provide Spike with some professional help," said Doctor Rizelli.

"SRU is prepared to fully accommodate Officer Scarlatti with in-home care, worker's compensation, and reemployment training, upon his return to the team," Ed said firmly, in his best Team Leader voice, meeting the doctor's gaze with his own steely glare.

Doctor Rizelli adjusted his glasses before saying, "Very well. Spike, we'll need you back here twice a week for scans. I also need to discuss your medications with you. I've taken the liberty of having the pharmacy place your medications into differently shaped bottles. Your pills themselves are also differently shaped, to avoid taking the wrong ones. I want you back in here immediately if the headaches increase in frequency or intensity, understood?"

"Understood," Spike said quickly, excitement rising in his voice.

"In that case, as soon as you get dressed, you can go," said Doctor Rizelli. "Remember our deal. And good luck."

"Thanks, Doc," said Spike, before he swung his legs out of bed.

Lou brought over a fresh T-shirt, briefs, socks, a pair of jeans, and tennis shoes for Spike to put on. The team, save for Lou, left the room for a few minutes to give Spike a chance to dress in private. As soon as Spike had finished dressing, he looked up in Lou's direction.

"Where are my wheels, Lou?" he asked.

"Gone, man," said Lou. "The doc thought you'd like to walk out of here."

"Seriously?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, yeah, of course, but... how?" Spike asked sheepishly.

"Take my arm," Lou said, offering his arm to Spike. "We'll walk just like before. It's just down the hall and outside to the parking lot and the car. Then up the front steps to my place."

"_Your _place?" Spike asked testily.

"Doc figured the fewer people you have to run into, the better," Lou said simply. "But don't worry; I think your mom will beat us home to fawn over you."

Spike rolled his sightless eyes, then took Lou's arm.

With his hand placed around Lou's forearm, it placed Spike one pace behind Lou, allowing Lou to guide him where he needed to, while also enabling Spike to detect any change in Lou's motion, such as stopping or a change in direction.

They paused at the doorway to allow Lou to open the door, then, using their technique, walked across the hall to the nurse's station. Spike sat down and waited for Lou to finish filling out the discharge papers and collect his medications, then together, they walked down the hall and out to the parking lot.

Lou placed Spike's hand on the car door handle, while placing the other on the roof of the car. He indicated which way the car faced, then watched as Spike carefully opened the door and felt for the dashboard before sliding himself into the passenger seat. Then, after a moment of fumbling with the seatbelt, Lou shut the car door and went around to the driver's side.

Twenty minutes later, the two young men arrived at Lou's apartment. After negotiating the curb and front steps, they entered the apartment together and Lou guided Spike into the entryway.

"Living room or bedroom?" Lou asked.

"Bedroom," Spike said, craving a long stretch of sleep.

Spike and Lou walked together to the second bedroom which, sight or no sight, Spike knew just as well as his own. Spike immediately took another pain pill, as a headache began to present itself, then Lou guided him to the bedroom. With Spike touching the end of the bed and beginning to strip off his clothes, Lou, satisfied that he wasn't going to fall, left the room.

* * *

As Spike slept, Lou flitted around the apartment, making changes to accommodate Spike's extended stay. He moved the furniture further apart and deposited Spike's toiletry bag in the bathroom, hanging it by its hook from the towel rack. He then reentered the bedroom silently, picked up the trail of dirty clothes Spike had stripped off, and dropped Spike's dirty clothing into a laundry hamper in the bathroom and set clean clothes at the end of Spike's bed.

Two hours later, Lou poked his head into the bedroom to check on Spike. Spike was still asleep, so Lou decided to make some lunch before he woke him. Half an hour later, Lou gently shook Spike's shoulders to waken him.

"I made lunch," said Lou. "Come eat and then you can go back to sleep, if you want. Painkillers aren't good on an empty stomach. Move your ass, I'm hungry."

Spike nodded vaguely, then accompanied Lou to the kitchen. Lou pulled out the chair for Spike, then helped him ease into it. Spike pulled his chair toward the table and Lou brought out lunch.

"What did you make?" Spike asked.

"Take a guess."

Spike's nostrils flared as he inhaled. As Lou supervised to make sure Spike didn't scald himself with the hot liquid, Spike ran his fingers over the sandwich's rough texture.

"I'd say... fried boloney and cheese sandwiches, chicken noodle soup, and..." Spike brought the smaller plate up to his nose and sniffed deeply. "My mom made a pumpkin pie?"

Lou smiled. "Got it in one," he said. "Dig in, I'm hungry. Spoon's at your ten o'clock, fork's at your two o'clock."

They ate in companionable silence for several minutes, then Lou noticed the distant look on Spike's face.

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Spike blew on a spoonful of chicken noodle soup to cool it, then after swallowing it, asked, "Why didn't anybody tell me about the rehab instructor coming tomorrow? And since when did being blind mean I'm no longer capable of making my own decisions?" Spike's voice was kept low, but Lou easily detected an overlay of frost.

"Just found out about it myself," said Lou evenly.

"From who? Who arranged it? Boss?"

"The commander," said Lou. "It's required as part of your worker's compensation claim."

Spike nodded and continued to eat grumpily.

After Lou finished his sandwich, he said, "I have something for you."

Spike's eyebrows rose, indicating he was listening.

Lou went over to the nightstand in the living room and opened one of its drawers. He produced a box, which he opened. Inside was a watch, which he placed around Spike's wrist.

"I'm not exactly the jewelry type, Lou," Spike said.

"Not so fast, smartass. It's a watch," said Lou. Spike looked confused. "It has raised dots on it, a dash mark for twelve o'clock, two dots on 3, 6, and 9 and one dot on the hours in between. You press the button on top to open it and it'll fall open like a pocket watch from the 1800s. I've already set it. Go ahead and try it yourself."

Spike clicked the watch open and felt the crystal cover fall open into his fingers. After a moment of feeling around and deliberation, he said, "Twelve... forty seven?"

"Right," said Lou. He reset the watch and gave it back to Spike. "Try again."

Spike concentrated on feeling where the hands aligned with the dots or the dash mark.

"Three twenty-eight," he said, a moment later.

"Got it again," said Lou. "Want one more go?"

Spike nodded, the thrill of learning another skill, despite his handicap, rushing through his veins. Lou reset the watch once again.

"Six ten," said Spike.

"Three for three, buddy, I think you got it," said Lou. "It's really flashy and pretty techy. Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful, Lou," said Spike. "Thank you."

Lou smiled. "'S no problem, buddy," he said fondly. "Did you get enough to eat?"

"Yeah, thanks," Spike said, pushing his empty plate away from him. "I'm gonna hit the rack."

"Alright," said Lou. He watched Spike carefully make his way to the second bedroom, then went to the kitchen to do dishes.

Later that evening, Lou stepped into the bathroom to pick up the used towels Spike had left in a heap on the floor. Checking the tiny plastic cup where he had placed Spike's evening meds, Lou found it empty. He left the bedroom, leaving the door wide open in case Spike needed him, then went to bed himself.

* * *

"Tell me again why I have to talk to the rehab instructor?"

Spike and Lou were sitting down to a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, apples with peanut butter, and juice.

"You need to be evaluated—"

"Evaluated?" Spike fumed, bristling instantly. "_Evaluated? Evaluated about what, my freaking blindness? What do they want me to do, walk into a few walls or trip over some rugs or drop glasses? I'm freakin' blind, Lou, and I don't need an evaluator to tell me that!_"

Lou reached and cuffed Spike around the head, just hard enough to make a point. Spike froze, startled, but remained stubbornly silent.

"Spike... listen to me. The evaluation is for medical insurance and worker's compensation approval. Unless you wanna foot the bill for your medical expenses, this has to be done."

Spike nodded curtly and Lou continued.

"The guy's a Vision Rehabilitation Therapist," said Lou. "He can help you with everyday living skills. You wanna keep your independence until your sight returns, here's your chance. You wanna make your own decisions, have control? You can let him help you for a few hours a week or you can start packing your bags for the reorientation center. Your decision." Lou sighed. "Spike... I know it feels like a lifetime has passed, but it's only been a week. You're doing fine. But with this guy's help, you can do even better. You can do anything you want when you put your mind to it, you know that."

Spike's jaw tightened visibly, but he said nothing and they finished the remainder of their breakfast in silence.

* * *

The vision rehabilitation instructor snapped to his feet when Spike and Lou entered the room, that afternoon.

"Hello, Officer Scarlatti, I'm Jacob Chase, your Vision Rehabilitation Instructor," he introduced himself. "Please call me Jake."

"Call me Spike."

"Alright. I know this is a terribly difficult time for you. You have every right to be... confused," said Jake, taking a seat in a chair.

"Do I have a right _not _to be confused as well?" Spike snapped.

"Spike," Lou hissed.

"That's where I come in. I'm here to help you, Spike, not judge you. As your Vision Rehabilitation Therapist, I intend to teach you a wide range of adaptive skills that people with low or impaired vision can use in their daily lives, to maintain their independence— everything from taking care of your own body to using the telephone to writing and reading Braille."

Lou's words from their earlier conversation echoed in Spike's mind. _You wanna maintain your independence, make your own decisions, have control? Here's your chance. It's that or you can start packing your bags for the reorientation center..._

Spike sighed heavily. "Let's do this," he said determinedly.

The intake visit with the rehabilitation instructor lasted about two hours. Lou took copious notes. The three men discussed various adaptive skills Spike could learn, everything from mobility to personal hygiene to grooming to transportation. Spike wanted to be able to take a shower and use the bathroom without sensing Lou's patient guard outside the door. He wanted to be able to eat without having his food cut for him and most of it ending up in his lap. He wanted to be able to find the shampoo and body wash bottles without spending twenty minutes searching around the shower floor when they fell. Spike wanted to be able to brush his teeth without wondering where the toothpaste cap was. He wanted to choose his own clothes, without having to worry about whether or not he wore matching socks. Spike wanted to be able to gel his hair without worrying about whether or not he looked like Nick Nolte's mug shot.

The instructor made a list of things Spike could do to maintain his independence. They talked through each room. Bathroom items including putting a rubber band around his body wash bottle, to tell it apart from his shampoo and conditioner, and holding the toothbrush by its bristles in order to successfully apply toothpaste without making a mess. Jake also suggested placing the shower caddy on a hook on the opposite end of the shower, to avoid it interfering with the showerhead and the knobs. Additionally, he suggested placing non-slip, non-skid mats in the tub and on the bathroom floor and a grab-bar installed into the shower for Spike to hold onto, in case he felt disoriented or dizzy. Kitchen suggestions included a voice-activated grocery list organizer and magnets to hold garbage bags in place. Laundry suggestions included a color sorter for clothing and reorganizing his closet.

Jake asked if Lou had any training in human guidance, to which Lou nodded.

"I received minimal instruction in high school and undergraduate psychology classes," he answered.

Jake was intrigued. "Care to show me?" he asked, not challengingly.

Lou stepped into place next to Spike and offered his right arm. Spike firmly grasped his tricep, as they had in the hospital room, and they walked around the room to show Jake their technique. After being shown their technique on Lou's front steps, Jake nodded his approval.

"That's fine. The only way to become more comfortable with guiding is practice," he said.

As Jake prepared to leave, he suggested making the next orientation appointment around lunchtime, so they could practice eating and dining skills and some light cooking. Cooking was one of Spike's greatest passions; he couldn't bear to live out of the microwave forever.

Despite the somewhat rocky start, Jake left the appointment feeling confident that Spike was willing to learn whatever skills Jake wished to teach him, in order to maintain his independence. Jake did note, however, Spike's tendency to consider his blindness only a temporary annoyance, rather than a permanent change, and the ease with which he became distressed and depressed when the potential of possible permanence was voiced. Jake made a mental note to discuss this with Lou, Sergeant Parker, and Officer Lane before their next appointment.

* * *

Later that evening, Lou watched from the living room as Spike brushed his teeth and washed his face.

"How do you think today went?" he asked.

"Fine," said Spike, after finishing brushing his teeth.

"Any thoughts?" Lou asked.

"No, why?" Spike asked, scrubbing his face with the washcloth, then turning his head in the direction of Lou's voice.

"You look like you got something on your mind. How are the headaches?" Lou asked.

Spike slowly ran his hand over his cheeks, where stubbly growth had turned into a light beard. "I need to shave."

"Hell yeah, you do," said Lou. "You look like a wife beater." Spike's head whipped around, his mouth falling open at the remark; then he grinned. Lou grinned and got up from reading a magazine in the recliner. "You want help?"

"No thanks. There's a unisex salon a few blocks from here," said Spike. "We can drive."

"Riding passenger makes you motion sick these days, buddy," said Lou. "Feel up for a walk?"

Spike's eyes widened in alarm. "Walking? But Lou... that's four blocks. That means crossing four streets and we haven't done that yet."

"Well, streets have crosswalks and lights and those annoying bird songs specifically for folks with visual impairments, don't they?" Lou asked. He ignored Spike's glare as Spike thought for a moment Lou meant it as a personal jibe. Spike's expression cleared when he realized Lou meant nothing of the sort. "We'll take it slow. They're open till nine and they accept walk-ins."

Spike turned toward him and looked at the floor, deliberating. Then he looked back up at Lou. "Let's do it."

Together, utilizing Lou's guide technique, the two men walked toward the front door and out to the hallway. Spike waited a moment while Lou locked the door, then they proceeded down the front steps and onto the sidewalk.

Forty-five minutes later, a freshly-shaven Spike returned with Lou to the apartment. They had negotiated both ways across the four streets with no incidents.

"You hungry?" Lou asked. Spike shook his head. "You got more scans tomorrow, should probably hit the rack."

Spike nodded vaguely and made his way toward the bathroom.

"How's the head?" Lou asked. His answer came as Spike swallowed down two pain pills and collapsed onto his bed. Lou would have preferred Spike eat something before taking the painkillers, but at least he had taken them. "Call me if you need anything."

Spike responded with a muffled grunt, and a few minutes later, his breathing evened out as sleep overcame him.

* * *

The following day, Lou sat with a cup of coffee in one hand and a Popular Science magazine in the other hand, as he waited with Ed and Greg in the imaging department waiting room for Spike's newest round of scans to finish. Spike had received another dose of sedative to combat the irritation the procedure caused him, so he was subsequently taken into a private room to sleep off the rest of the sedative.

Lou watched helplessly as Spike struggled to waken. Frown and pain lines appeared immediately as another monster headache raged on. Eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pain, Spike rose to a sitting position and Lou brought him an emesis basin, into which he promptly vomited and dry-heaved for several moments. Lou pressed the nurse call button and requested some Compazine for Spike's nausea, while they waited for Doctor Rizelli to arrive.

The doctor arrived and, noticing Spike's discomfort regarding the dizziness and nausea, said, "The Compazine should take effect within the next ten minutes or so. Would you like for me to wait with the results until you're feeling a little better?"

"No," Spike said, shaking his head slightly, "let's get on with it."

"Alright," said the doctor, placing the MRI results on a light board. "The hairline fracture to your occipital bone is healing nicely, but unfortunately, we still do not see any reduction in the swelling around your occipital cortex at this point."

"No change at all?" Ed asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Doctor Rizelli said kindly. "It's looking like it may be more long-term than we had originally thought."

Spike's eyes widened and he paled considerably at the news.

"How are the headaches?" asked the doctor.

Spike was staring distantly forward, clearly not paying attention.

"Spike?"

Spike blinked several times, then looked in the direction of the doctor's voice. "Sorry... what?"

"I know this must be incredibly frustrating for you, Spike," said Doctor Rizelli, "but it's barely the second week of the recovery stage. It's still quite early. How are the headaches?"

"Not as frequent," Spike replied.

"How bad?"

"Pain seems to be worse at night," Spike admitted.

"That's not unusual," said Doctor Rizelli. "These types of headaches are often brought on and exacerbated by stress and fatigue. I'm pleased to hear you've begun visual training therapy. Jacob Chase is one of our best therapists. How do you think it is going?"

"He's progressing," said Lou.

Doctor Rizelli adjusted his glasses. "Very well," he said, before a thoughtful look came over his face. "Spike, I think we should reduce your scans to once a week."

"Why?" Spike asked.

"If you're concerned about Spike paying for his medical bills..." Ed began sternly.

"This has nothing to do with payment, Officer Lane," said the doctor quickly. "SRU has already contacted me, regarding their willingness to accept full compensation. I'm simply concerned with the amount of stress the scans clearly put Spike through each time he has them done. With your condition neither worsening nor getting better at this point, Spike, I believe it is in your best interest to decrease the amount of time you spend having the procedure."

Lou looked over at Spike just in time to see the young man blush and look away in embarrassment.

"I can handle it, Doc," Spike murmured.

"I'm sorry, Spike, but it's in your best interest that we reduce the scan appointments. There's simply no need to put you through all the undue stress, regarding the procedure, the sedatives, and the side effects. Go home, continue taking your meds, get rest, and call me if the headaches increase in frequency or intensity. I'll reschedule Thursday's appointment to this time next week."

Recognizing that arguing would be moot, Spike nodded, then heard the door close as the doctor left the room.

"Spike," said Greg, "this doesn't mean you're—"

"Boss, don't," Spike said shortly. "I just wanna get outta here."

Greg sighed, then nodded wearily. "You got it, buddy. We'll see you later. You call if you need anything, okay?"

Spike nodded. Lou assumed his guide position at Spike's side, then assisted Spike walking to the bathroom. Lou set his clothes on the sink, then closed the door to allow Spike to dress in private. Once dressed, Spike opened the door, took hold of Lou's arm, then they walked out of the hospital together.

* * *

They grabbed lunch from a local deli on the way home. Lou's cell phone rang as they were entering Spike's bedroom. Stopping walking, Lou flipped open his phone and Spike heard one side of a quick conversation.

Lou snapped his cell phone shut, then explained. "The commander is coming here to talk to you tomorrow. Says he wants to review your career options. You ready for that?"

Spike sighed, then nodded as he blearily made his way toward his bed. "As I'll ever be," he responded quietly.

"You don't have to decide right away," Lou said, as he brought a cup of water and Spike's painkillers from the bathroom. "It's just a conversation that must be had. It's laying out all your options, not putting a gun to your head and saying 'Choose.'"

Spike nodded. "Lou, I don't know what I'm gonna do if I can't return to SRU. I can't do what I do without my sight. Bombs, tech, computers... it's all I have," he murmured quietly.

"You don't know that yet," Lou said encouragingly. Lou was well aware of the consequences of heaping too much praise and hope on his partner; however, at the moment, Spike seemed on the edge of such despair that he was willing to risk it. "Just get some sleep and we'll talk to him in the morning. Sarge and Ed are gonna be there, too."

"Mm'kay," Spike murmured sleepily, as the painkillers' effect began to wash over him and pulled him into a thoughtless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_If I don't move an inch, my laptop can hack into (*cough* I mean, connect to *cough*) the high school's weak wifi signal across the street from my house, hehe... It comes and goes as it pleases, and I use it to my advantage when it works for a few minutes! I'm not a hacker, I swear! It's not my fault the school apparently doesn't firewall their wifi, hehe... Enjoy._

**Blindsided**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

It was almost ten a.m. when Spike finally shuffled out of the bedroom, the following morning. Lou was relaxed in a chair in the living room, reading a book. He looked up when he heard Spike leave the bathroom and enter the living room.

"You look like hell," he said, appraising his friend and quickly taking in the disheveled hair, the paleness of his face, and the dark circles under Spike's eyes. "You hungry? I already ate, but I can make you something."

"Yeah," said Spike. He checked his watch and discovered it was 9:36 a.m. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You needed your sleep. Commander's not due till one," said Lou. "What do you want?"

"Just eggs and toast," said Spike.

"Anything to drink?"

"Orange juice."

"You got it."

Lou got the eggs, milk, cheese, and orange juice out of the refrigerator, then guided Spike over to the freezer. "You can make the toast yourself," he said, not unkindly, by way of explanation. Spike smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks, buddy." Spike opened the freezer and took out a loaf of bread and carefully set it on the counter. He then untied the twist-tie and held it in one hand, so as not to lose it as he broke off two slices of bread with the other hand. He twisted the tie back on, then put the bread back in the freezer, before feeling his way around the kitchen to the toaster. Lou had already set it out, anticipating his friend's needs.

Spike placed the bread in the toaster, then paused.

Lou noticed his friend's deliberation. "How well done do you want it?" he asked Spike.

"Restaurant style," said Spike.

Lou turned the dial on the toaster to 3, just far enough that the toast would be toasted, but have no burnt pieces. "All yours," he said. He watched as Spike felt for the end of the toaster, then pushed down the lever to toast the bread.

Lou guided Spike to the table and he sat down and waited for Lou to finish making breakfast. Spike listened to the sound of the eggs cracking, Lou whisking, then the eggs sizzling in the frying pan. He heard the toast pop up and Lou's soft footfalls across the small kitchen to retrieve the toast, which Spike ate while waiting for his eggs.

"Fork's at your two o'clock, spoon's at your ten o'clock," said Lou. He dished out the scrambled eggs, then asked, "Are you ready for this?"

"No," said Spike, "but I don't have a choice."

"True, but it'll get easier," said Lou. "It's already getting easier, isn't it?"

Spike nodded. "Yes," he admitted.

"Admitting it's getting a little easier doesn't mean you're surrendering yourself to it being permanent," said Lou. "It just means you're making the right decision not to give up."

Spike nodded. He knew Lou was right.

"Go ahead and get some more sleep, if you need it," said Lou, as he drank down his milk. "You want me to be there?"

"No thanks," said Spike. "I need to talk to Holleran— alone."

* * *

Two hours later, Lou returned. Greg and Ed had also arrived, to hear the results within professional capacity.

After Lou had checked on Spike, asleep in the bedroom, Greg asked the commander, "How'd it go?"

"You know, Greg, I've been with SRU for almost twenty-one years," said the commander, "and I think I know my teams pretty well, especially Team One, but I'll be damned if I can tell what's going on inside Scarlatti's head."

The three men nodded. Lou knew Spike better than anyone and even he was having his doubts right now.

"Did he hear you out?" Lou asked.

"He sat and listened to the whole thing. He was so quiet I had to remind myself he was still listening. I told him he doesn't have to make the decision right now, about returning to SRU," said Commander Holleran. "I also told him SRU is fully willing to assist him with reemployment training within the Toronto Police Service, compensation for his medical bills, rehabilitation, pay his full wages, the whole shebang. This discussion wasn't to make the decision right now, but purely to explore his options. He won't even consider the blind center?"

"Nope," Lou said, shaking his head. "He considers it admitting defeat and surrendering to his blindness being permanent. He still thinks it's temporary and that he just needs some assistance in the meantime."

"And God, I hope that's true," said the commander. "I told him I had our human resources people researching every possible way that he could return to the team at all. I suggested dispatcher with Winnie, profiler, even K-9 unit trainer."

"Did he show interest?" Ed asked.

"No. Said he was only interested in returning to his original position."

Lou could tell by the commander's silence, following these words, that something was wrong.

"What else?" Ed asked.

"Spike has offered his verbal resignation."

* * *

The team looked up as Sam entered the barn, his arm still in a cast strapped to his chest, the following Monday.

"Sam," Jules said, walking up to him and giving him a gentle hug, "it's so good to see you back."

Sam smiled grimly at her. "Thanks, Jules," he said quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Jules asked, walking back over to the break room table and taking a seat next to him.

"I've been cleared for duty," said Sam. "I return to light duties, while attending rehab. The cast is... er, well, it stays on for another month."

Various versions of "That's great, Sam" went around the room.

"We were just talking about having a surprise cheer up party for Spike," said Jules. "We think it's just the thing he might need right now. We're planning on getting him gifts, having food, music, maybe a movie or two. Everyone wants to go. You should, too."

"Jules," said Sam, "I think I'm probably the last person Spike wants to see right now."

"Sam, stop it," said Jules. "You know blaming yourself more will only make things worse. What's done is done. Now we need to move forward and continue helping Spike to do that."

"Jules..."

"Have you talked to him? Have you actually asked him?"

Jules' vocal tone was even, however the challenge was clear.

"Have I asked him what?"

"Have you actually asked him if he blames you?"

Sam shook his head.

"Then what's the harm in talking to him during the party, getting him a little something to cheer him up?" Jules asked. "It's worth a try. You can talk to him there and get your answer straight from the source."

Sam nodded. "When is it?"

"Friday night," said Jules, looking around the room for nods of concurrence, "5:30 p.m. We're gonna hold it at Lou's apartment, since it's an area Spike is most familiar with right now."

Sam nodded. "I'll be there."

Jules smiled. "Good," she said. Jules was anxious to see what would happen when the two men talked for the first time since the accident two weeks ago.

"How is Spike?" Sam asked.

"He's still blind," Jules said quietly. "The doctors think this might be more permanent than they originally thought."

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. Jules got up from her seat and took his hand.

"Come for a walk," she said. "We need to talk."

Sam nodded and left the barn with her.

* * *

The rest of the team had returned to the barn when Jules and Sam reentered the break room and sat down at a table.

"Did you know that Spike has resigned from SRU?" Jules asked.

Sam's head snapped up. "_Resigned?_" he asked, stunned. "He can't resign. He's the best we have."

"I know," Jules said grimly, sipping her cream-no-sugar. "Everyone's trying to convince him it's a bad idea, but he won't listen."

"Has the commander reviewed his options with him?" Sam asked.

"Yes. He says he's only interested in returning to his original position— or not at all."

"Why would he do that?"

"I think you should ask him that," Jules said evenly.

"Jules?"

"I mean, maybe you're the one he really needs to hear from. Maybe you can help him see straight," Jules suggested.

"How can anything I feel even pale in comparison to how he's feeling right now?" Sam asked.

"You're no less stressed out by this than he is," Jules pointed out. "You were both affected. You need to be upheld by those who love you, too."

"Jules, I can control my situation. Spike can't," said Sam.

"And that's why he needs to hear, Sam, that you're there for him," said Jules. "We can't change what happened. You've accepted the consequences of your actions. We can only change what is yet to come. The way I see it, you have two choices: you can let what happened consume you with guilt and destroy you." She reached over and gently slapped his cheek. "Or you can meet the challenge like Sam Braddock really would: head-on! You can show Spike that your friendship still remains, no matter what."

Sam was quiet for a moment, deliberating. Then he said, "Alright, Jules, I'll talk to him."

"Good."

"Thank you for knocking some sense into me. I love you," Sam said, his face splitting into a goofy grin.

"I love you, too, dork," Jules said, grinning back at him.

* * *

Spike looked up in surprise, as he heard a knock on the door, that evening. Lou had left five minutes ago to go rent some movies for them to watch.

_He couldn't possibly be back yet_, Spike thought, as he got up and felt his way toward the door, then opened it.

"Hey, Spike," came an uneasy voice.

"Sam?" Spike asked, surprised. "What are you doing here? You just missed Lou. He went to go grab some movies to watch."

"Actually... I came to see you."

"Oh," Spike said uneasily. "Coffee's on. You wanna cup?"

"Sure," Sam said, stepping into the apartment and following Spike into the kitchen. Spike felt his way over to the countertop and grabbed the coffee pot. "Here, let me," Sam said automatically.

"I can do it," Spike said sharply. "You'd be surprised, the things I've had to learn, being blind."

He carefully poured the coffee for them both, then handed Sam his cup.

"Why are you here, Sam?" he asked, as they sat down on the couch. "I mean, it's been two weeks, I'm not in the hospital anymore... why now?"

"I'm here because you're my team member, Spike, and I... care," said Sam. "Jules told me you resigned and I'm here hoping you'll hear me out and consider otherwise."

"I'm not interested in being the blind guy training the dogs, Sam," Spike said firmly. "Unless I can return to bombs and computers and everything techy geek, I'm going."

Sam heard the firmness in Spike's voice loud and clear. He could tell Spike had already made up his mind. But Sam knew he shouldn't give up so easily.

"I think you're making that decision far too soon, Spike," said Sam. "Everyone at SRU is willing to do whatever they can to bring you back— the commander, the Sarge, Ed, us, everyone. I don't think you've really thought this through."

"Oh, and you _have_?"

Sam flinched at the heavy layer of frost that overlay Spike's voice. He opened his mouth to continue, but Spike cut him off.

"Why don't you just come out with whatever it is you really came here to say, Sam?" Spike snapped.

"You blame me for your blindness."

"I _blame _you for disregarding orders, not just mine!" Spike yelled.

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Spike!" Sam said loudly.

"Why _did _you come here, then? If it was just to smother me with your pity, you can go ahead and leave, because I don't want it."

Spike heard Sam's sharp intake of breath, then he jumped as Sam slammed down his cup of coffee, spilling the hot contents everywhere. Sam turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Sam clenched his hand angrily on the steering wheel, as he maneuvered his car quickly through town. He was angry with Spike for blaming him, not that he disagreed with him. He knew he had disobeyed orders and catastrophe had struck as a result. But the accident was over now. Now he was trying to pick up the pieces and move on and get on with life. Trying to get back to relative normalcy.

Sam realized that just moving on with life was wholly different for Spike. He wasn't an idiot. But despite his best efforts to express his support to Spike, Spike had responded with anger and blame and shut the whole thing down. Sam wasn't even sure why he had bothered to waste his time.

Sam jumped as his cell phone warbled from the cup holder beside him. He flipped it open to answer it.

"Braddock."

"Constable Braddock, this is Commander Holleran," said the voice, causing Sam's blood to run cold with apprehension.

"Hello, Commander. What can I do for you?" Sam was pleased that his voice did not belay his apprehension.

"I would have preferred to have this discussion in person, but as it's after hours, this will have to do," said the commander.

"Sir?"

"I visited with Sergeant Parker and Officer Lane today. They informed me that they have spoken to Officer Scarlatti and received his account of what happened the day of the accident when you and he were injured. We also discussed if any further actions should be taken against you with regard to the accident."

There was silence on both ends for a long moment.

"Braddock, are you still with me?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Sergeant Parker and Officer Lane informed me that Officer Scarlatti wishes the inquiry be dropped and no further actions taken," said Commander Holleran. "Sergeant Parker and Officer Lane have agreed that you will remain on Team One."

Sam released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Braddock?"

"I'm here, sir."

"Once you complete your rehab in six weeks, you will resume responsibilities on the team as though nothing had happened," said the commander.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Braddock. It wouldn't have been my decision. Don't make them regret it."

Holleran disconnected the call and Sam allowed himself to relax slightly. He arrived at his apartment and parked in his slot. Upon entering his apartment, he collapsed face-first onto his bed. He thought about calling Jules, but he wasn't sure she would say right now what he wanted to hear. He just wanted some time alone to absorb what just happened and give himself a chance to face what was yet to come.

Somehow, in some way, Sam knew he had to make peace with Spike.

* * *

The following morning, after workout, Greg and Ed summoned Sam to the briefing room. Sam's adrenaline spiked as Ed slammed his fist down on the button by the door, sending the wall to the floor in lockdown. He met their gazes unblinkingly.

"When were you gonna tell us you visited Spike yesterday?"

Sam frowned. He wasn't going to ask how they knew.

"I thought I could convince him to stay on the team," said Sam. "I wasn't going to tell you because... it didn't go well."

"So you didn't get the response you expected?" Greg asked.

"Not even close," said Sam. "I expected him to blame me for his blindness, not blow up in my face about not wanting my pity."

"He _doesn't _blame you for his blindness, Sam," Greg assured him.

"Even so, it doesn't matter. No one blames me for the accident and what happened to him, more than I do," said Sam. "I just wanted to help."

"You wanna help him, Sam, you gotta cut him some slack," said Ed. "Take one for the team. It's gonna take time, not just effort. You gotta be patient."

Sam nodded. "I will be."

"Good. You're back to light duties on Monday."

"Okay. Am I still on Team One?"

"Did the commander tell you otherwise?" Ed asked.

Sam shook his head. "I thought, maybe, after..."

"You thought we'd cut you from the team?" Greg and Ed asked in incredulous unity.

"Sam, you're one of the best we have," Greg said. "You screwed up, but it would be stupid to cut you from the team."

Sam nodded, chewing his lip. "Thank you."

"Competitiveness within the team is natural and harmless most of the time," said Greg, "however it should never cross the line into insubordination, certainly _never _at the expense of another team member's well-being or life."

"Chain of command's in place for a reason," said Ed firmly. "Once is a mistake, twice is stupidity. You pull another stunt like that and you won't be back on the team. We clear?"

Sam nodded and released the breath he'd been holding, as Ed slammed his hand on the button again to release the wall.

"We're clear."


	7. Chapter 7

_I tried to have this uploaded last night around 11:45, but my wifi hacking wasn't working, lol. It claimed there's something wrong with my wifi/router adapter, which there isn't, and I don't give up so easily, lol. As it turns out, this is the final chapter. I know it's probably quite sudden— I wasn't exactly expecting it, either. But the story sort of finished itself, really. Thanks for reading and for the kind reviews thus far. I really appreciate it. Enjoy._

**Blindsided**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Lou watched Spike throughout the party on Friday evening. Everything had fallen into place and it had gone on without a hitch. There was music, dancing, banter, jokes, laughter. But none of it was real. Everyone could sense the palpable tension between Sam and Spike and it made them all uneasy. The two men refused to speak to each other or even meet each other's gaze.

With dinner eaten and the empty pizza boxes thrown outside into the recycle, everyone gathered around in the living room to give Spike his gifts before cutting the cake and serving ice cream.

"Gifts? Really, guys, dinner was enough, you don't have to get me anything," Spike said, blushing with embarrassment.

"We wanted to, Spike," said Jules. "Really. Come on, please?"

Spike sighed. "Alright."

"If nobody minds, I'd like to give him mine first," said Jules. "It's too big to wrap."

Spike's face took on a curious expression, as Jules handed him something long and thin.

"It's an electronic cane, Spike," said Jules. "The handle is split down the middle and the left side vibrates if there's an object in front of you within 5, 10, 15, or 20 feet. Same on the right side."

"Thanks, Jules," said Spike. "I haven't got a white cane yet. This'll help a lot."

Jules smiled, then sat back in Sam's lap.

"This is from me," said Ed, handing Spike a medium-sized parcel. Jules offered her assistance in unwrapping the gift, then Spike ran his hands over its smooth surface.

"An IPad, Ed?" he guessed.

"Yep," said Ed, smiling. "I downloaded—"

"_I _downloaded," Lou interjected, making everyone laugh.

Ed rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "Alright, _Lou _downloaded a bunch of blind apps, including VoiceOver, which allows you to operate the device hands-free and verbally."

"And from me," said Jules, "a bunch more audiobooks on the IPad, too."

Next, Spike opened his gift from the Sarge.

"It's a color sorter, Spike," said Greg. "You hold the device against an article of clothing and it tells you what color it is. It'll make doing laundry easier and you won't have to worry about whether or not you're wearing matching socks."

Spike nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Boss."

"This, Spike, is a grocery list organizer," said Wordy, as Spike opened his gift. "You can speak into it and it creates the list for you. Then any of us can print it out and we'll know exactly what you need when we go shopping with you. It recognizes over 2,500 items!"

Spike noticed Wordy's inclusion of the words "with you," not "for you." He nodded in appreciation.

Sam's gift came last. Spike took his time tearing off the wrapping paper and Spike told him what it was.

"It's called Stick-n-Find. They're Bluetooth locaters, Spike," said Sam. "You place the stickers on items, then you locate them with your phone. So you can put one on your keys, your wallet..."

"Thanks, Sam," said Spike, looking up toward Sam's voice, then around at everyone. He blushed. "Thank you, all of you."

Lou could see in Spike's sightless eyes an expression of despair barely hidden by the smile. He knew receiving the gifts made Spike feel as though the situation was inevitably permanent and that they'd all given up on him. He badly wanted to express to Spike that they hadn't given up on him yet for a second, that they just wanted what was best for him right now. But he couldn't in front of everybody; he didn't want to embarrass Spike.

They cut the cake and served ice cream. Once Spike began letting out jaw-cracking yawns, they decided to end the party and head home.

Sam walked Jules out to her car, kissed her goodnight, then went back inside the apartment. Lou's eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

"I'll stay with Spike tonight, Lou," said Sam. "You've done so much for him. You should go home and get some rest."

Lou looked over at Spike for confirmation and was satisfied when Spike nodded. After demonstrating the guiding technique, Lou gathered up what he needed for an overnight bag, then paused at the door.

"I'll be at my parents' house. If you need me, Spike, just call," said Lou, from the door, so Spike knew he was leaving.

Spike nodded. "'Night, Lou."

"'Night, Spike," Lou said, closing the door behind him.

The moment Lou left, awkward silence filled the room. Sam cleared his throat to let Spike know he was still present.

"You need anything, Spike?" he asked.

"I'm good, Sam," said Spike. "I'm gonna hit the rack."

Spike moved toward the bedroom, but before he got to the door, Sam said, "Spike, wait."

Spike paused, wondering what was coming next.

"We need to talk."

"I thought we were done talking?" Spike asked icily.

"This can't go on. I'm sorry I yelled at you," Sam said. "I know how hard this must be for you. I just want to help."

Spike sighed. "I know, Sam," he said. "But it's over now. We just gotta cut each other some slack and deal with it."

Sam nodded, then said, "Yeah."

"I don't blame you for my blindness, Sam," said Spike. "You disobeyed orders and you've paid for it, in more ways than one. Blaming you isn't going to make this easier or better or make me feel better or bring my sight back sooner."

Sam made a noise of agreement.

"Seriously, though? You ever pull a stunt like that again, Babycakes and I'll kick your ass."

Sam grinned. "You got it, Spike. Get some rest."

Spike nodded, then turned and went into the bedroom. Sam followed him, in part to get ready to sleep himself, and saw Spike lean heavily on the bathroom sink.

"Headache, Spike? Bad one?"

If Sam hadn't been watching his every move, he would have missed the barely perceptible nod. Sam guided Spike over to the bed and he sat down on the edge. Sam went back into the adjoining bathroom and retrieved his night meds from the cabinet and filled the glass of water. He brought it back over to Spike, who washed down the pills quickly.

Sam pulled back the covers, then Spike keeled over onto the bed. Sam pulled the covers up to meet Spike's shoulders, then Spike felt the mattress move as Sam backed a few inches away to let him tuck himself into bed with dignity. He felt himself relax, knowing him and Sam were back on good terms and that Sam had his hand on his back.

"Call me if you need anything," Sam said, before flicking off the light switch.

Spike's muffled grunt was the only answer Sam received.

* * *

"Sam... Sam!"

The panicked call jolted the former soldier out of sleep and had him across the hall before he was even fully awake. He flicked on the light switch to find Spike curled up in a fetal position on the bed, crushing his palms to his eyes, his jaw locked in an attempt to swallow the groan of pain that threatened to escape.

"Spike?" Sam was amazed that, yet again, his voice did not belay his terror.

"Sam..." he gasped. "I think I need to go the hospital..."

* * *

"Sam, what happened?"

Lou hurried toward Sam, who was sitting in the waiting room, leaning forward on his knees, wringing his hands worriedly.

"He called me and I found him curled up on his bed in a ball, his hands over his eyes, in some serious pain," Sam explained. "I called 911, figured it'd be faster than me driving him."

"He let you call for help?" Lou asked in surprise.

"Let me? Hell, Lou, he _asked _me!"

"You might as well grab coffee and breakfast with me at the Coffee Corner, Sam, it looks like it's gonna be another long night..."

* * *

Having eaten breakfast, Lou and Sam were just returning with iced cappuccino and pumpkin spice caffé macchiato in hand, when the nurse wheeled Spike back into his private room. Spike lay unmoving on the gurney. With some assistance, the nurse lifted Spike onto the bed, then tucked the sheet around him and plumped his pillows, before leaving him alone to sleep.

"Doctor Rizelli told me to tell you that the scans went very well, and that Spike should be waking up from the sedative very soon," she said quietly, smiling. "Doctor Rizelli has requested an urgent consultation with our Chief Ophthalmologist, Doctor Black, and they will be with you shortly."

Lou and Sam nodded and sat back to wait.

The two partners sat in comfortable silence as they watched Spike fight through the fog and heaviness of the sedative and return to consciousness. His eyelids fluttered, then he opened them, looking around for a sign that he wasn't alone.

"How are you feeling, Spike?" Sam asked.

"Tired. Where's the doc?" Spike asked.

"On his way. He's consulting with the ophthalmologist. Are you in pain?" Lou asked.

"Some," said Spike. "'S not bad, though... Anyone else here?"

"The Sarge, Ed, and Jules are in the waiting room," said Lou. "Nurses would only let your, er... 'primary caretakers' in at the moment." He smiled wryly. "They'll be let in after we've heard the verdict and you've had some rest."

"Okay," said Spike softly. His head dropped as he began to give in to the pull of the sedative, to sleep off the rest of it.

"Hey, don't go to sleep yet, Spike, I'm here," said Doctor Rizelli, announcing his arrival. "I have good news."

Spike's head snapped up. He winced in pain, regretting the motion. "Ow... What's going on?"

"The new scans show us that the pressure on your optic center is finally being relieved," said Doctor Rizelli. "The reduction of the swelling has relieved pressure on the optic nerves and nerve bundles, causing your acute pain."

"Doc, does this mean my sight might return?" Spike asked, unable to hide the desperate eagerness in his voice.

"These nerves have been compressed for two weeks now," Doctor Rizelli said gently. "Now that the pressure has been released, the recovery is completely dependent on the extent of the damage to the nerves, and when or if they can resume functioning normally, if at all. The headaches are a result of the trauma this compression has caused the nerves, and unfortunately, as you've experienced, they can be extremely sudden and extremely painful. For now, I've prescribed a much stronger painkiller for you to take as soon as you feel a headache starting, Spike. If you feel they don't provide enough relief, I want you back here, stat."

"Can I go home?" Spike asked.

"I'd rather you stayed until the sedative was completely out of your system," said Doctor Rizelli. "However, if you can give me your word that you'll go straight to bed when you get home..."

Spike was out of bed and pulling his pants over shaking legs and ripping off the hospital gown, before the doctor finished his sentence.

"Do you have someone to stay with you, Spike?" asked Doctor Rizelli.

"I will," Lou and Sam said in unison. Spike smiled.

Spike was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow, upon returning home.

* * *

A few hours later, Lou looked up, hearing the shuffling of feet.

"Thought you were sleeping?" he asked Spike, appraising him quickly and seeing no sign of pain or illness.

"I was," said Spike, "but I can't stop thinking."

"About what?"

"I've decided to enroll in the blind reorientation center."

Lou's heart leapt into his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Spike. "I mean, this blindness could mean the rest of my life. I don't know if it'll come back in two days or two weeks or two months or two years or never. I can't just sit here, waiting. If the center can help me return to at least some of what I love, being on the team, around you guys, doing what we do, I want that. I need to move on, get back to at least some level of normalcy."

"Good for you," said Lou, smiling. "I think that's a very good choice. I think you can do anything you set your mind to."

"Thanks, buddy," Spike said, swallowing past the lump of emotion in his throat. "That... it means a lot."

"Get some sleep. If you feel up to it tomorrow, we can go bowling or something."

Spike smiled, then turned around and fell back into bed. He listened to his best friend's soft footfalls fade into the room next to him, then his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

* * *

_**One month later.**_

Spike enrolled and was accepted at a top blind reorientation facility in Toronto. Three weeks previously, he'd moved into one of the dorms, where he lived during the week— phoned frequently by his friends, family, and former teammates.

Spike was completely focused and determined to relearn the most basic of tasks as quickly as possible, which often proved frustrating without the benefit of sight.

He was learning how to get around using a white cane for guidance, a skill that gave him independence when there wasn't anyone to assist him. He was pleased with his progress with cooking, one of his lifelong favorite hobbies, personal health and housekeeping, though each of those areas required constant practice. He couldn't wait to speak to the team each week to tell them about his progress with the computer and visual aid technology. But by far, his biggest challenge was Braille and using public transportation. He was a long way from being able to take public transport alone and found both areas to be daunting and, at times, overwhelming.

He worked particularly hard during the week and always looked forward to Friday evenings when, unless his team was on a hot call, Lou collected him from the center and they spent the weekends together, whether just the two of them or with the team. Saturdays were spent doing fun things, like walking the mall without buying anything, listening to music, and watching movies. Sundays were spent catching up on household chores and hanging out. Before they realized it, they had fallen into an easy, comfortable routine.

* * *

Bowling had become one of Spike's favorite new sports. Spike participated by utilizing a ramp, which was positioned by an assistant, usually Lou, in the center at the beginning of the lane. He placed the ball on top of the ramp, then pushed it down and listened to it roll toward, then crash against the pins. Lou would call out whether Spike had scored a spare or a strike. Due to Lou's accuracy, Spike usually scored more strikes than anyone else, which made himself and everyone else happy.

On a Friday night, six weeks into his stay at the center, Spike joined the team for an evening of cosmic family bowling. The bowling lane shut down their normal lighting system at dark and replaced it with neon lights and disco balls and music. While Spike couldn't take in the new fancy lighting, he could still partake in the sport and the excitement and fun it brought everyone.

The game started off well. Spike scored two strikes in a row, then waited his turn as the others on his team bowled.

Spike knew something was wrong the moment he sent his ball down the ramp. His head spun, the sound of the ball connecting with the lane reverberating in his ears. Dizzy to the point of nausea, his legs wobbled and he collapsed to the floor. He wasn't sure if he would be able to sit up, let alone stand. As he heard the ball crash against the pins, he crushed his hands against his head, trying to lessen the pain, and took a few deep breaths, then tried to regain his footing. He pushed himself to a squatting position, then slowly straightened his legs and stood up.

"Spike?"

Spike heard Lou call from the chairs, but was too busy trying to regain his footing to answer. The world tilted suddenly and Spike staggered several steps before his legs betrayed him again and he fell, face first onto the floor, with enough impact to force the air from his lungs, and this time he stayed down.

"Boss!" Lou yelled from the chairs, bolting over to Spike. Greg, Ed, Sam, and Jules converged on their prone friend.

"Spike?" Greg asked, as Spike attempted to sit up.

"Spike, stay still," said Ed. "Give yourself a minute."

"Spike, what happened?" Jules asked.

The owner arrived at that moment with a cold drink and a wet towel.

"Spike, how are you feeling?" Jules asked, gently running the towel across his forehead and the sides of his face.

"M'dizzy... headache," Spike replied blearily, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

"Did anyone bring his meds?" Sam asked.

"It's in his sports bag," said Lou, jumping up and running over to retrieve the bag.

"Come and sit down," said Jules kindly. She, Ed, and Greg assisted Spike to sit in the nearest chair. Spike sat down on wobbly legs and Sam handed him a Gatorade.

"Drink it," he urged.

Spike drank down a few gulps of the Gatorade, then opened his eyes a crack, as Jules continued patting the towel lightly across his face. Hissing in pain, he squeezed them shut tightly again.

"Oh, Spike, I'm sorry, I..." Jules soothed. Then she paused, realizing what Spike had just done. "Spike? Spike, can you see?"

Spike's eyes were screwed tightly closed as pain contorted his handsome face. Lou watched, his heart pounding furiously, and noticed the instant the question penetrated Spike's pain-addled brain. He watched as realization slowly formed on the young man's features and, very slowly, Spike attempted to open his eyes. With his eyes opened to slits, Spike hissed again and closed them straight away.

"Spike, can you see?" Lou asked.

"Light, Lou, I... I... I can see light and darkness," he replied, hearing the gasps and sharp intakes of breath from his friends.

"We'd better get you straight to the hospital, buddy," Greg urged. "Does anyone have sunglasses?"

Jules produced a pair from her purse and gave them to Spike. Spike let out a sigh of relief as the pain from the sudden light perception lessened slightly. The team helped him to his feet and assisted him to the SUV, calling Doctor Rizelli along the way.

* * *

The next 48 hours passed slowly, as Spike underwent yet more tests, confirming that his optic nerves and nerve bundles had begun to function and his vision had improved from total blindness to light perception. Although his vision was still severely impaired, he could now determine the general source and direction of light. As Doctor Rizelli had warned, with the improvement came frequent, almost crippling, headaches.

Spike was discharged from the hospital and ordered to take a week off from his rehab and just rest— he was staying with Lou once again. The strong painkillers caused him to sleep up to 16 hours a day and left him feeling lethargic and nauseous, but in his waking hours, he tried his best to pull his weight around the house.

With Lou unable to take any more time off, he would often come home to find dinner started or the laundry done. He felt ridiculously proud of the progress Spike had made, adapting to a life without sight. Occasionally, a white shirt would come out of the wash rosy pink, but Lou didn't mind. He simply added it to his collection of cleaning rags and bought another one.

With dinner eaten and the clean dishes cleared away, they reconvened to the living room for some more quality time together.

* * *

_**One month later.**_

Lou and the team veered from the elevator toward the nurses' station when Doctor Rizelli called Spike's name.

"What the hell happened?" Ed demanded, scowling.

"Like I told you on the phone, Officer Lane, Spike experienced severe, nauseating headaches and was brought in by one of the center's staff."

"_And?_"

"We've done some more tests and given him a strong painkiller; he's not in any discomfort at the moment."

"What about his sight?" Wordy asked.

"I was just about to go in and see him," said Doctor Rizelli. "Care to join me, Constable Young? Just you for now, if you don't mind; I don't want to overwhelm him. I'll leave the door open, so the rest of you can hear the results, then see him."

Lou nodded and followed the doctor into the room. He went over to Spike's bed and placed his hand on Spike's arm.

"Spike?"

"Hey, Lou," Spike replied sleepily, with his eyes still closed and a crooked goofy grin that confirmed he was _definitely _feeling no pain.

After three attempts, he finally managed to open his heavy eyelids and found he could now leave them halfway open without too much discomfort. He turned his head toward Lou and gave him another goofy grin.

"Never thought I'd say this, Lou... but you're a sight for sore eyes!"

The look on Lou's face as realization struck had Spike cackling like a madman.

"You can see?"

Lou looked directly at Spike.

"I can see," he whispered, his voice thick with overflowing emotion.

Lou's grip tightened excitedly on Spike's forearm and he looked to the doctor for an explanation.

"We've determined that the optic nerves recovered sufficiently from their trauma and have begun to intercept the messages received from Spike's eyes. The change was so sudden that it caused a severe amount of pain, but that should also subside over the next few days," Doctor Rizelli explained.

"You did new scans?" Ed asked, from the doorway.

"Of course. We can see no permanent damage to any part of Spike's brain," the doctor said, with a smile and a shake of his head. "He is a very lucky man. His pupils are dilated and he's extremely photo-sensitive at the moment, but that should also return to normal soon."

A high-pitched beeping sound caused the doctor to reach into his pocket for his pager.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," he said, walking to the door. "I'd like to keep Spike overnight for observation, but he can go home first thing tomorrow. We'll need to monitor his progress over the next few weeks, but I don't see any reason why he can't return to work in two to three weeks."

"Thanks, Doc," Spike replied, dropping his head back onto the pillows and sighing heavily.

"Get some sleep while you can," said Greg. "We'll see you again when you're home."

* * *

Spike returned home the following morning and slept until the following day. Within an hour of Spike's waking, Lou's apartment was filled with the team and Spike's parents, all overjoyed at Spike's miraculous recovery and return home— and soon, to work.

"So when are you coming back to work, Spike?" Jules asked.

"Um... in case you forgot, Jules, I resigned, remember?" Spike reminded her.

"No!" Jules exclaimed. "No, that's not fair! Everything's changed." She turned to look at Greg and Ed. "Boss, you gotta do something to change this. Spike can come back now like nothing's ever happened!"

"Spoke to the commander a while ago about your verbal resignation," Greg said.

"And?" Spike asked apprehensively.

"He said to remind you that he's a very busy man, supervising and managing multiple teams, who can't be expected to remember every conversation he's ever had with every agent," Greg said, with a wry grin. "Said if resigning meant that much to you, you should have put it in writing."

Spike's mouth fell open. "He never processed my resignation?"

"Nope; according to SOP, you've been on medical leave after a work-related injury. When you're cleared for duty, you'll come back to your position."

Spike's eyes brightened as his face cracked into a huge grin like a split watermelon.

"You got it, Boss."

As the conversation continued around him, Spike looked at the group. No one shared genetic or blood ties, yet they shared a bond that went deeper than most. He felt an overwhelming sense of quiet gratitude that these people had come into his life, sharing their friendship, their fun, their humor, their jobs, their families, and their complete sense of loyalty. None of them had, for one moment, given up on him or let him give up on himself.

Then there was Lou— who, with his laid-back, chill attitude and his easy words, radiated pure loyalty, friendship, and love that went beyond all words. Lou was Spike's best friend, his other half in his job, and his one solid anchor when his life had threatened to careen out of control.

Lou was leaning against the far wall, listening to Ed and Wordy telling stories about their kids. For a moment, their eyes met and they shared a knowing smile.

Spike leaned back against his pillows once more and allowed his friends' easy conversations and soft laughter to wash over him and lull him into a restful sleep.

* * *

_Thank you for taking the time to read this story and review. I appreciate it so much._

_Until next time, lots of love..._

_horseaholic_


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